Spare Time
by YHWHsAceOfBlades
Summary: When the Akatsuki members aren't on a mission, they're usually doing other things, like blowing up art shows, having fights with themselves, and asking for... love advice?
1. Chapter 1: The Bet

**Hidan and Kakuzu**

**The Bet**

_At one of the Akatsuki hideouts..._

Kakuzu grinned like a idiot as he made his way down the hallway, even though he was far from being one. And what greedy person wouldn't be, with the easy money he was about to make? He couldn't believe he hadn't thought of this before; with all the profits, he was going to have to buy a second wallet.

He stopped in front of a door that lead into one of the few rooms in the base. On the other side of it was the one person he loathed more than anyone else (which was quite a few), the one man he hated as much as he loved money.

Hidan.

Kakuzu knew the feeling was mutual. It often made him wonder how they managed to work so well together in spite of themselves. At least HE had a reason to hate his guts. Hidan took FOREVER to perform those weird rituals of his, and he wouldn't even give him the heart! Honestly...

Kakuzu rapped on the door a few times, only to receive a "Yeah, who's there?" from within. Without answering, the stitched- up 91- year old entered, receiving a cold, hate-filled glare from the Jashinist.

"Oh... it's YOU." said Hidan with a voice that dripped with so much contempt it might as well have been flooding, "Whaddya want?"

Kakuzu decided to get straight to the point.

"I'm here to make a bet."

Hidan stared dumbfounded at his partner like he was an idiot (which he was, in his mind), and after several minutes of dead silence, spoke.

"You?"

Yes."

"You want to BET?"

"Yes..."

"With MONEY?"

"Yes, Hidan. With money."

"...Seriously?"

"YES, I'M SERIOUS!" roared an exasperated Kakuzu. He stopped, breathing hard from the outburst.

Hidan continued to give the object of his hatred an odd look, and then spoke.

"Okay, either you're a an imposter or you hit your head on something."

"Will you just shut it and hear me out?"

"Fine... what're the rules?"

"Easy." began Kakuzu, "All you have to do is not cuss once for the rest of today, until midnight."

Another dumbfounded stare. "Excuse me?"

"If you win," he continued, ignoring his partner's question, " you get two million ryo, straight from the pockets of yours truly."

Hidan's mouth dropped open. "W- What?"

"But if **I** win," he said, still ignoring Hidan (something he wished he was better at), "YOU have to give ME two million ryo. Whaddya say?"

Hidan paused for a moment, weighing his options, and then smirked.

"You're on."

Kakuzu returned the smirk. _"He's taken the bait- hook, line, and sinker."_

xxxxxx

Konan hated cooking dinner.

It wasn't cooking itself that she despised; she didn't mind too much. It was the fact that almost everyone else in the Akatsuki made dinner a lot more frustrating than necessary. Kisame wanted nothing but seafood, Zetsu wanted corpses (something that Konan would NOT allow at the table, not to mention it was often in short supply), Deidara wouldn't stop eating with his hands, and Hidan complained about everything... not to mention the cleaning she usually had to do afterward. The only people who were "sane" were Itachi and Pain. Sasori didn't count... he didn't eat much. Actually, he didn't eat at all; he didn't need to.

Hearing footsteps nearby, the origami expert turned to see Hidan himself, coming with a smug air, as usual.

"We're having dango, just so you know-"

"Shut up, you-!"

Hidan suddenly stopped, and looked as he choked on something. Konan looked at him confused. "Are you okay, Hidan?" "Yeah, I 'm fine. Just... yeah" And with that, he quickly (and awkwardly) walked off to join the others in the feast. Konan stared after him.

"That was... weird."

After more awkward experiences centering around Hidan's constant "choking," the members dispersed from the table, leaving either to retire to their rooms to laze around or go on a mission somewhere. Hidan was making his way back to his room when he was stopped by Pain.

Hidan growled audibly at him, obviously perturbed. "What the- *choke*- … Whaddya want already?"

"I want to know what THAT is all about."

"What the-" he simply stopped himself this time; he noticed he was getting better at it "...What are you talking about?"

"You stop yourself whenever you are about to curse. Are you ACTUALLY trying to drop the habit?"

"No." Hidan answered simply, "It's just that..." He stopped to check for anyone else's presence, and then started again, in a low tone of voice.

"Kakuzu made a bet with me..."

The eyebrows on Pain's normally stone-rigid face actually rose a bit with surprise. "Kakuzu?"

"Yes..."

"Made a bet?"

Yes..."

"With MONEY?"

"Yes..."

"...Seriously?"

"YES, I'M SERIOUS!" roared a very frustrated Jashinist. Pain glared at this rude display of disrespect, but being used to it, he brushed it aside, albeit grudgingly...

"I see... so I assume the conditions are that you... desist cursing?"

"For the rest of the day, until midnight."

"I see... How much?"

"Two million ryo."

Pain nodded. It made sense now. Kakuzu figured that he wouldn't be able to last for that long, and so made the bet for some easy money. "I see... well, then... you are dismissed."

"'Bout time." said Hidan, earning him another glare from the Akatsuki leader.

xxxxxx

Kakuzu wandered around the hallway, trying to find the human Venus fly trap known as Zetsu. If anyone had tabs on how "well" Hidan was doing, it would be him...

"Looking for someone?"

"AAAHHH!" The green- eyed criminal jumped, then turned to see Kisame right behind him.

"Don't do that!"

"Sheesh, calm down." replied the shark-man. "So what's up? You lost or something?"

"No... I was looking for Zetsu."

Kisame's eyebrows arched. "Someone looking for Zetsu? Huh. That's a first. Usually it's the other way around."

Kakuzu ignored him and continued. "I was wondering... has Hidan foul-mouthed at all today?"

"Oh yeah, the bet." said the blue- skinned man. Kakuzu was noticeably surprised. "How did you-?"

"Zetsu told me. From what I heard, he's actually been doin' pretty good so far."

"Is that right? Well, I have to say, I'm impressed... but this is Hidan we're talkin' about. No way he'll make it 'til midnight."

"You sure about that?" asked Kisame, "because it's already 11:55."

If Kakuzu was drinking something, he would have spat it out in shock.

"WHAT? Are you sure?"

"Yeah, look at the clock-" he glanced around the room. "Oh wait... we don't have one. Isn't that right, cheapskate?"

"Shut up! We're not gonna spend good money on stupid clocks! We got the sun and moon for that!"

"Right..."

"Look," said Kakuzu, getting desperate, "you've got to help me! There's two million ryo at stake!"

The shark-man immediately grinned, something that made the 5- hearted ninja regret those words.

"Split the profits 50- 50 and it's a deal."

"HECK, NO!"

"Well, I guess that's too bad then." said Kisame, as he began to walk off.

Kakuzu was panicking now.

"70-30?"

Nope."

"60-40?"

"I'm not changin' it."

Kakuzu sighed, in defeat and anger. Either get half of what he was hoping to get or... possibly none at all.

"Okay, fine... 50-50."

"Thought you'd come around." was the reply.

xxxxxx

Hidan wiped his grinning mouth as he drank the last of the blood sample from his newest to- be sacrifice, a young woman with long black hair and a fresh gash on her arm who was, understandably, terrified. One moment, she was locking up the tailor shop, the next, this... freak kidnaps her and brings her to this hideout, jabbering about sacrificing her to this Jashin whoever and all sorts of horrible torture that scarred her once innocent mind. She was bound to the wall with chains, at the mercy of the Jashinist.

"Now," he spoke, causing her fear and her breathing to escalate as his skeleton-like form spread over his body, "we begin the ceremony." He grin turned maniacal as he readied his scythe...

***BOOM!***

Both Hidan and the woman jumped as the door slammed the wall from being flung open. Since this was not the typical entrance of anyone in the Akatsuki, not even Kakuzu on a bad day, Hidan whirled around to see...

"Kisame? What the heck are you doing?" asked an rather angry Jashinist. Kisame was about to reply when he noticed the woman chained to the wall. Even though it was dark, she looked... familiar. But he pushed the thought aside.

"Kisame! You just gonna stand there? I'm a little busy right now, so can you, you know, leave?"

Kisame simply stood there in silence, not entirely sure how to go on about this... and then, out of the blue, he began to-

"SQUAWK! SQUAWK! SQUAWK!"

With this bizarre war cry that would unnerve even Pain himself, he charged at Hidan and whaled him with the broad side of his Samehada, causing the scythe-wielder to slam into the wall and crumple onto the floor. Needless to say, he was bewildered about this sudden assault.

"Kisame, what-OW! OW! WHADDYA THINK YOU'RE DOIN'?"

The shark-man had now resorted to jumping up and down on his back, which, with him as big as he was, created a very painful and unpleasant experience.

Kisame was doing whatever he could think of to push Hidan off the brink, which, strangely, was proving to be harder than usual. One would think that, after he broke his scythe, tore up the Holy Book of Jashin, and even broke his only copy of_ Super Mario Bros. 3_ ("NO! I WAS SO CLOSE TO BOWSER'S CASTLE!"), the Jashinist would break, but Hidan still held true.

Then it hit him. The ultimate button-pusher.

Quickly throwing Hidan out of the room, Kisame shut the door, locked it, and barred it with Samehada... just in case. He then turned and made his way over to Hidan's frightened captive, terrified enough already with the "ceremony," the violent intrusion, and now some Jaws wanna-be was coming towards her...

"P-Please... don't h-hurt me." she stuttered. She cringed and shut her eyes tightly, waiting for some kind of excruciating pain, or to be eaten alive, or SOMETHING horrible...

...only to instead feel one of the chains slip off.

She cracked open one eye to see the S- rank criminal slip off another chain, with an grin almost as insane as the man he was just beating up. "W-What are you doing?" asked the woman. Kisame turned to face her and grinned.

"Earning myself a million ryo."

"Wha-"

"It's a long story."

He undid the last of the chains, dashed over to the back wall, and pushed open a hidden door leading to the emergency escape tunnel. "Quick, get out of here, before-"

"KISAME, OPEN THIS DOOR RIGHT FREAKIN' NOW!"

"-he comes in!"

The woman stared at him a moment. "Um... thank you."

"No sweat." said Kisame. The would-be sacrifice stared another couple of seconds, and then tore down the hallway. The wielder of Samehada then shut the door after her; wouldn't want Hidan to track her down. Kisame scratched his head. Now that he had gotten a good look at her, he KNEW he'd seen her before, but he couldn't put his finger on where. Oh, well. Itachi would probably know.

At that moment, the door exploded into countless splinters, sending the shark-skinned sword to the wall and revealing a vey enraged Hidan. His fists were clenched so tightly that Kisame could see the knuckles turning white. "Kisame, you overgrown fish stick, you better have a good reason-" He stopped mid-sentence when he noticed that someone extremely important was missing from his room.

"Kisame... where's my sacrifice?"

The shark- man decided that he might as well be blunt about it; only two minutes left anyway.

"Oh, I let her go."

After the Jashinist was completely silent for a whole minute, he spoke again.

"You... did...WHAAAAAT?

Kisame could see it; Hidan could feel it. The rage, the anger, the absolute, pent- up frustration from the entire fiasco, it was about to blow, and with it, the very thing Kisame and Kakuzu wanted.

However, between wanting to show up Kakuzu and taking his anger out on the "overgrown fish stick," a most unexpected thing happened, something that would hound Hidan for weeks to come.

"YOU SON OF A... HUMBUG!"

No one said a word for a good three minutes.

Kisame just gave him a blank stare... and then, a snicker came out... then a chuckle... and then outright guffawing.

"SHUT UP!" yelled Hidan, "I only said that because of that stupid-" he stopped again, this time because he wasn't hearing just Kisame's laughter.

Knowing that he was caught, Zetsu came out of the wall, laughing as hard as the swordsman. Even the black side, who was normally rather serious, was in stitches. "Son of a humbug?" said the white side in between fits of giggles, "Since when did you read up on Charles Dickens?"

"Yeah, really!" said Kisame, now doubled over in laughter, "That's something that Kakuzu should be saying!" That comment brought on a whole new fit of giddy convulsions, soon bringing them both to the floor.

xxxxxx

After the two (or rather three) had finally left, Hidan had resorted to sitting on his bed and fuming. In all likelihood, word of this would reach everyone in the Akatsuki; they'd never let him live it down. He groaned in frustration. Honestly, why did that blue- skinned freak of nature do that anyway? Oh, he was so gonna get him back...

Someday. But not tonight. It was late, and Hidan was tired from the ordeal. He knew he was going to have to be well rested if he wanted to get a replacement sacrifice. He absent-mindedly wondered what time it was, but, of course, he realized, he couldn't find out, thanks to that money-grubbing partner of his...

As if on cue, Kakuzu walked into the room while carrying a rather large sack, apparently fuming about something himself. This was further evidenced by him glaring at Hidan.

"What are you, lookin' at?"

Finally snapping, the oldest Akatsuki member forcefully threw the bag at him and stomped out into the hallway, angrier than before.

"Hey, what gives?" Hidan shouted, "Kisame gave me enough crud already, and-"

Realizing that his partner was out of hearing range, he cut himself off and looked at the projectile that Kakuzu had made of the sack. Curious, he opened it... and a wide grin spread across his face.

He now knew the time was at least 12:00.


	2. Chapter 2: The Art Show

**Deidara and Sasori**

**The Art Show**

_Somewhere in the Land of Earth..._

Two robed figures walked down a dusty road, their faces shrouded under their cone- shaped hats and their high- collared robes. One was a person of normal height, the other was rather short, or rather, hunched down, the way his coat dragged in the dirt and rocks that littered the path. If someone were watching them from afar, he likely would have heard them speaking, and, on closer inspection, have heard the following...

"Idiot. What good is ANYTHING if it doesn't last? Clearly, true art lasts forever."

"Ah, but if you know it will still be around, you cease to appreciate it. With all due respect, Sasori my man, art is capable of being temporal as well, un."

Sasori turned his hidden face back to the road in front of them. "Hmph. Clearly, you continue to remain ignorant. Why do we keep having this argument? You never budge on the matter."

"At least I respect YOUR views." countered the taller man, "It would be nice if you could return the favor, un."

"There's nothing about your views to respect, Deidara." said the short man. With a "hmph" on the arsonist's part, the conversation ended, and the two continued in silence.

After about thirty minutes of walking, they came upon a bustling little town; apparently some sort of event was going on, which made Deidara rather curious as to the nature of the matter. His curiosity was soon satisfied, however, thanks to a flyer amongst a multitude of similar ones that read:

**Annual Yasomoke Village Art Show/Competion Today**

**1:00 P.M.- 3:00 P.M.**

**Same-day Participants are Welcome**

The blonde artist turned to his partner, wondering about his response to the occasion. From the looks of it, he didn't care at all, seeing as how he kept his eyes on the pathway that ran through the town.

"You're not interested, un?"

"Hn? About what?"

"The art show, un."

Sasori took his eyes off the road for the first time since they had arrived and laid them on the various, colorful posters strewn throughout the neighborhood. "No."

"What? Why not, un?"

"We have to report back to base... and you know I hate to keep people waiting."

"It's not like there's a time limit. We could stay for just a few minutes, un."

Sasori stopped abruptly and looked and looked at the flyers again, this time in thoughtful consideration.

"Well..?"

The puppet-master sighed. "...Fine... but only long enough to look."

...

The two S- ranked criminals found the exhibition hall rather easily, as it was adorned with all forms of ribbons, banners, and other such decorative items even brighter in color than the flyers. Upon entry, the duo froze in place.

Beautiful art of all kinds were displayed on the floor of the gargantuan auditorium. Sculptures, paintings, stain-glassed windows, and every other type of artwork the human mind could imagine bathed the onlookers in their majestic, crafted, beauty.

"Whoa... this is a dream for an artist." said Deidara...

"... and a nightmare for someone with Stendhal Syndrome." finished Sasori. Though he was speaking to himself, Deidara couldn't help but overhear.

"Stendhal Syndrome?"

Sasori nodded, unfazed by his partner' unintentional eavesdropping. "Yeah, Stendhal Syndrome. It's a disorder that inflicts hallucinations, fainting, and other less- than pleasant symptoms when exposed to beautiful works of art, like architecture and famous paintings."

"Wow, that sounds... awful...un."

Silence overtook the two as they made their way through the exhibits. It was soon broken, however, as they would try to prove their own points of view using the artwork on display, sometimes being supported and other times having "proof" against them, but throughout it all, neither of them were even beginning to break.

"How do you not see the brevity in such a moment as captured by this work?"

"I'm amazed at your total ignorance of the timelessness in such a classic."

However, there was one work of art on which they both agreed was worthy of being called art.

It was a painting of a woman embracing a younger girl in a hug of motherly love. The older woman had long black hair, ruby red lips, and fair skin, while the girl had long brown hair and considerably pale skin. The latter appeared to have streaks coming down her cheeks from her eyes, as if she had been crying about something. The former's expression held all the concern and love that a mother, or a mother- figure, could hold for her child. The painting was appropriately named _Maternal Affection_, the name of the artist being Yakumo Kurama.

"The eternal love of a mother..." began Sasori.

"...expressed in a brief, but powerful gesture." finished Deidara, "Sasori, my man, I think we both agree that- Sasori?"

His partner's head was bowed a bit, as if he were having a moment of silence for some recently lost soul.

"You alright, un?"

"Yeah... I'm fine." Sasori lied as memories came rushing back, "Look, uh... let's split up. We'll cover more ground that way."

"Sasori?"

"Meet me back at the entrance in two hours." said the puppet master, completely ignoring the younger artist's question, "And don't be late." He tried to sound threatening, but the obvious sorrow made the facade fall flat

As he slid over to another part of the auditorium, Deidara wondered what it was about the one art piece they had ever agreed on to depress him, but let him have his space for now, out of respect.

Moments later, Deidara was gazing another gorgeous painting, also by Yakumo Kurama (he had overheard from the other observers that the artist was actually from Konoha, and that, with her permission, the managers of the art show had imported some of her art out of great respect for her mastery of the paintbrush). It was vastly different from her last work, a gigantic snake rising from the rubble of some dilapidated building. Again, the work was appropriately named, this one being _Reptilian Fear Manifested_.

"Quite an impressive painting, un..." muttered Deidara to himself.

"Ah, but it would be better if it were a sculpture." said a voice behind him. Deidara jumped and whirled around to see a tall, wiry, older man dressed in a rather luxurious robe of royal blue. The latter looked surprised at the former's reaction, but quickly realized his fault. "Ah, so sorry, sir. I tend to startle doing that." "Oh, you're fine." said the blonde bomber, "Um... what do mean, 'as a sculpture', un?"

"Ah, well, that's merely my personal opinion... I'm quite a fan of sculptures, you see."

Deidara's eyebrows immediately arched. "Sculptures, huh? Interesting... I'm a man of sculptures myself."

"Ah, is that right? You're an artist?"

"That I am, un."

"Ah, splendid, wonderful! Tell me, my good man, are participating in the art show today?"

"Me? Heh, I wish. My partner won't let me... We're on a 'time schedule,' un."

"Ah, it that so? Pity... I was hoping otherwise. I've seen hardly a sculpture all day. Granted, the paintings are nice, but a sculpture..."

Deidara gave a somewhat mischievous grin. "Y'know, I could make one right here..."

"Ah? Really? Excellent! Something to make this trip worthwhile." he said. He then added, in a tone of seriousness, "I must warn you, though... I am a critic with very high standards."

Deidara nodded, and began fishing in his one of his hip pouches for a lump of clay. The art critic was quite puzzled at this, and so asked him what material he was using.

"Clay."

"Ah, clay, is it? A very interesting choice. I must say, I look forward to this."

The blonde bomber couldn't help but smile. When he got a sizable blob of the moldable explosive, he showed it to the older man, careful not to expose his mouthed palms.

"Watch this, un." he said, and with that, he began shaping the clay with one hand, immediately receiving an expression of awe from his new colleague. Within ten seconds, he finished, and opened his hand (again, careful not to show the palms) and revealed a exquisitely detailed model of the very room they were standing in.

"A- Amazing!" exclaimed the critic, "This is one of the best sculptures I've ever seen! It's beauti..."

The man didn't finish his sentence; it's kinda hard to when a guy suddenly has a blank look on his face and then collapses on the ground. Deidara stood there stunned for a second, processing what had just transpired.

"Um... sir?"

The older gentleman began to stir. As he sat up again, Deidara kneeled down beside him. "Hey, you okay? You kinda fainted, un."

The art critic said nothing, but instead gazed at his surroundings. After a full minute of silence, he turned to Deidara.

"I recognize this architecture."

Deidara scrunched his eyebrow in confusion. "Um... What are you-"

"We're in the Land of Earth, correct?"

"Um... yes..." Deidara was starting to feel awkward. "Hey, you sure you're okay, un?"

The older art critic paused for a moment... and then began the pandemonium.

"WE'RE IN ENEMY TERRITORY! EVERYONE TAKE EVASIVE MANUVEURS!" The old man whipped a kunai out of nowhere and took off towards the eastern wing of the building, leaving the blonde bomber to stand dumbfounded at the sight, along with the nearby witnesses of this bizarre shift in mental stability.

When Deidara finally snapped out of his stupor, he realized he was being stared at by the aforementioned witnesses. It was evident that they wanted an explanation, but having nothing of the sort, Deidara raised his hands defensively. "I... I don't know, okay? I just met the guy, un."

Sasori stood rigid in front of yet another painting (this one by someone known only as Sai), yet his thoughts were on a completely different subject.

"_Why... Why them..."_

He sighed. _C'mon, Sasori, man up. You can't bring them back. You can only... mourn."_ He sighed again and looked up at the painting of raging dragons. _"What I'd give to bring them-"_

***WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!***

The puppet master suddenly found three shuriken lodged into the artwork

"_What the-?"_

"THE THIRD GREAT SHINOBI WORLD WAR IS NOT OVER YET!"

Sasori spun around to see an older man with a royal blue robe wielding an armory's worth of kunai, shuriken, exploding tags, and other various ninja tools. He had a delirious look in his eyes, and he wasn't very discriminate in who or what he took aim at.

"FOR KONOHA!"

The nutcase threw a kunai straight at Sasori, who easily blocked it with his tail. He was glad that most of the bystanders had already been scared off; he and Deidara didn't need the attention.

"You're a bit behind the times, old man. Guess I'll have to teach you a history lesson."

...

Deidara dashed through the seemingly endless galleries of masterpieces, trying to find the old geezer he had lost track of for the fifth time.

"I don't get what happened, un." he muttered to himself, " All I did was show him one of my beautiful pieces of art, and then he just faints and starts hallu... cin... a... ting."

NOW it made sense; the pieces came together.

Stendhal Syndrome. It wasn't confirmed, but it did explain the old art critic's odd behavior. While this was a great discovery, it didn't help Deidara find either the old man or his own partner. Not that it needed to; the explosions from the north wing did that for him. Running at a speed that may have rivaled that of his future partner, he came upon Sasori defending himself against the continual onslaught of sharpened metal; the geezer was proving to be more challenging than expected.

"Deidara! There you are!" yelled the arsonist's partner over the clang of steel, "Gimme a hand here, will ya?"

"Alright, alright, have some patience, un." came the reply. Deidara ripped off a fresh glob of clay from the lump in his pouch and began molding one of his common sculptures.

"Deidara! I'm WAITING! You know I HATE to be kept WAITING!"

"Hey now, art takes time. You of all people should know, un."

When he had finally finished, he opened his hand, revealing a few simple sculptures of birds, and tossed them into the air. Immediately, they grew to the size of their living counterparts and honed in on the crazed art critic and roosted on his shoulders.

"Ah, messenger birds from Konoha." said the blue-clad old man, "What news do you have for me?"

"The message is... 'Art is a bang!'"

"Wait, what? That doesn't even make-"

***BOOM!***

The art critic understood the message a bit too late. After the smoke cleared, he stood dazed for a few seconds...and then collapsed onto the ground for the second time today. The two artists cautiously approached him...

"You think he's dead, un?" asked Deidara.

"I don't know. Check and see."

The arsonist then lightly kicked the geezer's side, resulting in a faint groan on the latter's part.

"Yeah, he's still with us."

"Good. We don't need to cause a scene here..."

The duo paused for a moment.

"Wonder what his problem was?" asked the puppet master.

"I think it was Stendhal Syndrome, un."

"Eh?" Sasori looked at his partner, confused.

"Yeah. I showed him one of my sculptures, and then he faints and starts ranting about war and stuff."

"Huh." was the only reply.

After another moment of silence, one of the attendants of the art show slowly peeked out from underneath one of the charred display tables, and noticed the Akatsuki artists standing near the also charred body of the once-sane art critic. "You... you saved us!"

As the two turned to look at the man who addressed them, they saw the extent of the destruction wreaked by the old man. Nearly every work of art was either slashed to ribbons, smashed to pieces, or on fire. Deidara didn't even want to know how that marble replica of the Valley of the End got stuck half way into the ceiling.

"Friends," the man addressed them again, "you have no idea how thankful we are. Is there anything we can do to repay you?"

They immediately looked at each other and grinned; they were thinking the exact same thing.

...

_A day later..._

The art competition had a second showing, due to the "incident" occurring before judging. However, none of the original works of art were on display. Instead, there were only two kinds of art on display; clay sculptures and puppets.

After three grueling hours of observing the two artists' handiwork, the judges approached Deidara and Sasori, both of whom were twitching with excitement (and impatience, on the latter's part).

"So... have you guys settled our little argument?"

The lead judge straightened his own robe a bit before speaking. "Well... we've seen a lot of art before in our time, but... nothing like this." He paused. "Really, it was quite difficult to find a winner between your amazing works of art... so much so that the best we could say is..." The Akatsuki artists leaned in with anticipation... a little too much, really.

"...a tie."

"..."

"... You're kidding, right?"

"No, I'm afraid I'm not."

The duo stood there absolutely dumbfounded.

After a few moments of dead silence, the blonde bomber turned to his still-stunned partner.

"Hey, at least-"

"Shut up, Deidara. Just shut up."

**A/N: Yes, Stendhal Syndrome is indeed a real disorder. Go on, Google it. I dare ya.**


	3. Chapter 3: The Argument

**Zetsu**

**The Argument**

This. Sucked.

They haven't seen a good battle since the Valley of the End, had nothing interesting to report as of late, and to top it all off, they haven't had their favorite meal of human flesh in the past week. In other words, they were bored out of their minds.

Thus, having nothing to do, the two personalities known as Zetsu were doing... well, nothing. Well, actually, they were watching random civilians pass to and fro at a street intersection in some unknown village, but nothing of actual significance.

They had remained perfectly hidden in the shadows of the nearby ally, and equally silent, for the good part of thirty minutes. They were hoping that Madara or Pain would send for them, but so far had received no such call.

The black side could tell that the other half had something on his mind; he was never this quiet. As far as he could tell, nothing had happened that had upset him (then again, nothing seemed to upset either of them; disgruntled, yes, but never upset), and it was difficult to keep things from each other, due to their connected minds, so naturally, he was curious.

Again, due the nature of their minds, the white side knew of his partner's curiosity, and so proceeded to satisfy it.

"I've been thinking..."

"_Yes?"_ the black half prodded him to continue.

"...what's the difference between a crow and a raven?"

"_..."_

If he could look at him, Black would have given him quite the dumbfounded stare. So he instead settled for an expression of utter disbelief.

"_...That's it? That's what's been shuttin' you up for the past half hour? FREAKING BIRDS? What kind of stupid question is that?"_

"It is NOT a stupid question! Seriously, I want to know! I mean, they're called different names for a reason, right?"

"_Yes, they likely are, but really, who cares?"_

"I do!"

"_Well, don't. That's just stupid."_

"YOU'RE stupid."

Black angrily scowled. _"Trust me, if anyone's stupid, it's you."_

"Your face is stupid!"

"_In case you haven't noticed, MORON, we share the same face, so you pretty much just insulted yourself."_

"S-shut up!"

"_Are you sure? You realize you'll have to the same, right?"_

"Your face... I mean, your side of our face!"

Black simply outright laughed at his pathetic attempt at a comeback. _"Nice one... moron."_

White saw a golden opportunity for a retort.

"You know, you technically called yourself a moron."

"_Eh?"_

"We're two sides of the same person, so when you insult me, you insult yourself."

Black didn't say anything for a moment, while White smirked in triumph... until...

"_You realize that goes for you too, right?"_

White snapped.

"THAT'S IT!" He promptly split from his more serious (and now surprised) partner, and slugged him dead in the jaw, knocking Black to the ground.

Black was shocked. Flabbergasted. Appalled. They had argued before, but it never came out to this.

"HA! Now I can't share your jerk-ness, you... jerk!"

Black gave him that dumbfounded stare he couldn't give him earlier. _"What the heck...?"_

Black didn't get to finish his sentence, as White began repeatedly kicking him in the side. At that, the pupil-less black side of Zetsu scrambled to his feet.

"You wanna fight me, black boy? Do ya?"

"_Bring it on, white trash."_

"OH, YOU'VE DONE IT NOW!"

An all-out brawl broke out between the two, both of them wildly punching and kicking each other like two vicious animals.

A kick to the knee nearly toppled Black over.

"Take back what you said!"

Black frowned and retaliated with a punch to the gut.

"_Why bother? It wouldn't change the fact."_

This went on for ten straight minutes, and would probably have gone longer if...

"Mommy, why are those two men fighting?"

...a little girl hadn't snapped the human fly traps out of their melee.

The split Zetsus turned to see that the entire group of civilians they were watching before was now staring at them. They couldn't be blamed. It wasn't often that a plant-like person with two conflicting skin colors suddenly split in half and start fighting himself. Frankly, the duo wasn't sure what to do.

"_Think of something, moron!" _Black hissed under his breath.

"What? Why me?" White whispered back.

"_Because you got us into this mess!"_

The white side of Zetsu would have protested, but the cautious approach of a ninja squad changed his mind.

"Uhhh... thanks for watching, everyone! Hope you enjoyed the show!" And with that, they both sank into the earth below.

**10101010101010**

Pain sighed like only the most annoyed leader of a criminal organization of S-ranked missing-nins could. He had seen his underlings do stupid stuff before, like the time Kisame ate one of Deidara's clay fish, but this was ridiculous. He sighed again and looked the newspaper in front of him over again. It read:

**Dissociative Identity Disorder Taken to New Heights:**

**Plant-man Loses It**

**Hey, guys, thanks for reading this far into my story. If you guys wanna suggest an idea for this, send me a PM and I'll take a look at it. And don't forget to review! Tell what you like or dislike about this. I need your help to improve, so I'M FREAKIN' BEGGING YOU! Ok, maybe not... I still have my pride.**


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